Boromir Aesir · @Boromir_Aesir
30th Mar 2015 from TwitLonger
Stone-verse: The Hidden Kingdom.
After http://www.twitlonger.com/show/n_1sladvv
Kíli, Boromir, Elennárë, Anvari and Thirán come to the hidden Dwarven kingdom in the White Mountains.
@Valandhir @Boromir_Aesir @DurinUncle @SilmarilNaro @Gyrfalconsheart
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Kíli
The echo of the thundering waterfall had accompanied them for the last few miles as they climbed up the steep paths that led to the valley of singing echoes. The path was ice-free, though there was still snow on the shadow sides of the hills. Kíli led the pack-pony across the last ridge, stopping to take a good look at the steep valley. The Waterfall came down at the back end of the valley and formed a small river through the vale, that fell down another steep ledge to their left.
Where the river bend in the valley stood the Meeting Stone, one simple standing stone, that looked nothing different from those found North. Pointing ahead towards the rock face beside the waterfall, Kíli smiled. "There... we are almost there."
Long ago he had stumbled into this valley, the water the reason he had come down from the icier reaches. Kíli only vaguely recalled how he had stumbled across the hidden gates. Now he turned to his companions, who had come up the path after him.
Boromir
The way through the valley had become progressively more perilous with how steep it was and the path they followed growing narrower. Boromir had to believe this was not a major entrance, though given that it was a *hidden* kingdom, perhaps having their entryways being difficult to reach was a defense. Glancing back he checked on Elennárë's progress, though she seemed to be having no problems, the minor clumsiness she initially had while growing used to her body having disappeared with her regular training.
On Kíli's indication he looked towards the waterfall. "A hidden door for a Hidden Kingdom?" he said with just a touch of humour in his voice.
Kíli
Kíli almost grinned up at him. "Dwarven doors are invisible when closed," he replied. "and they cannot be found again when their secret was lost." He looked at Elennárë, seeing that Anvari was assisting her, when necessary. While Kíli was slightly amused by Anvari sometimes, he trusted the younger dwarf to be at hand should Elennárë need any assistance.
They crossed into the valley, following the path towards the standing stone. "The stone is called the "Meeting Stone" by the people of the Mountains," he said. "and they say that those daring enough to come here in the Night of the New Moon, may barter and trade with the dark things below." Kíli had seen the Midnight market and knew that those of Mountain villagers with the courage to come here, kept it silent among their own kind. The people of the Mountain province were good people, hardy if silent.
Boromir
"Dark things," Boromir snorted with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "How much of that deliberately spread tales and how much is just superstition that would call dwarves dark?" He wondered aloud. Perhaps it was knowing dwarves personally, or perhaps living in Minas Tirith with it's Undercity, but it was hard for him to really attribute 'darkness' to someone for merely living underground.
Kíli
"In places deep where dark things sleep..." Kíli quoted a song that they both knew. "Some of the people of this land do hardly know that is dwarves they are dealing with - they believe we are some kind of dark-ish Menfolk tribe that fled under the Earth long ago. Others know we are dwarves and call us dark because we live down beneath the Mountains. I guess the legends grew over the years, just like the fairy tales did." Kíli had been astonished when he had begun to live in Minas Tirith, to hear some of the stories children would be told before going to sleep.
They walked past the Meeting stone and onwards to the huge rock face beside the waterfalls. He shook his head. "For all the strange stories about it, this kingdom has lived in peace for three thousand years, it endured when all other dwarven kingdoms were destroyed... and for all I know the dwarves here have lived in more friendship with their neighbours than any other realm in a long time."
Boromir
"For that then I am glad of the wisdom of kings of old and the Stewards after them for keeping that peace. After everything Father had me read over before we left the city, I saw enough to know it has been mutually profitable," he responded.
Thirán
"Old grudges getting in the way," Thirán spoke up. "Dwarves have long memories and Elves even longer. I would imagine though that when Tiórvi settled here, there were little to no old grudges to be held against the Men of Númenor, so the relationship had a clean slate."
Kíli
Kíli turned his head, to look at Thirán. "You are right, that probably played a big role and made a difference. I had to learn a lot of history when I first came here, for next to nothing about the hidden Kingdom exists outside their own chronicles and maybe the chronicles of Gondor." Boromir was right too - this agreement had been good for both sides, and to Kíli it would always be an example that the dwarves and Menfolk could live amicably side by side, as friends. It was a difference to what he had experienced as a young dwarf in the North.
They reached the rock face and Kíli places his hands against it, fine lines beginning to glow in the stone. While it needed touch to be revealed, the lines actually reflected the noon-day sun, the writing at the gate was dwarven and Adûnaic, along with a line of very very ancient dwarven writing, which had survived from the first gate.
"Dâr-Telvar." Kíli only whispered the word, it did not need more. The gates responded to the word "Brothers" in dwarven or Adûnaic, not that anyone would easily guess the latter.
Boromir
Boromir turned to look at Kíli, then back at the writing on the opening door. While his fluency in Adûnaic was less than was worthy of the son of the Steward and possible future Steward, the word Kíli used was one he knew very well, from his younger years when it had special meaning between he and Faramir.
As Kíli lead the way in, Boromir found himself looking about. The entry hall struck him as having a good deal of similarity to some of the older buildings in Minas Tirith, places like the oldest sections of the Citadel and the Sixth Circle. He could not wonder at it for long as dwarves came to meet them, guardsmen from the look of their armour and weapons, though the leader immediately approached Kíli with apparent familiarity.
Kíli
Kíli had walked a few steps towards the guards, seeing that they visibly relaxed at recognizing him. "Prince Kíli, it always seems to be my luck to have the gate when you return." Their leader said with a slight grin.
Kíli and he clasped hands over forearms. "You are right, Agráz, I think I'd be nervous if I came back finding someone else manning the gate." Kíli replied. The guard captain was a friend, he was not only the one who had found Kíli initially and who had hunted down the assassin after him, he also had helped Kíli a lot, during that first year, when Kíli had struggled to recover from the slowly healing wounds.
Agráz laughed, a deep, growling laughter. He was a short, stocky dwarf, with thick black hair and a scar across his face. Though his eyes betrayed that he liked to laugh and joke more than his grim face indicated. "Your message got here," he said softly. "though I need to know whom you are bringing here."
"Of course." Kíli replied, having expected that. He turned to his companions. "Agráz, this is Boromir, son of Denethor, Captain of Gondor, and his sister the Lady Elennárë."
Agráz gave a curt salute, fist over his heart. "Ter'anshar Númenor." (True blood of Númenor). The greeting was as old as the founding of this Kingdom, but it meant honest respect towards a man Agráz had heard much about.
Kíli then stepped a bit closer to Thirán and Anvari, for a moment he felt a bit tense. but let it go. "This is Frérin, son of Thráin, my Uncle and his son Anvari."
Agráz eyes widened slightly, though he probably had been given some warning, as he knew of Kíli's message. He bowed swiftly. "Agráz, son of Argnor at your service."
Thirán
"A-and I, at yours..." Thirán stumbled a bit over the reply, as being one of the Dead, he had stopped using it long ago. He looked Kíli's way, hoping his nephew would help cover his nerves. This was the first time in many years he had been in the presence of dwarves outside the Lost and not expect immediate ill treatment.
Kíli
Kíli could sense how Thirán tensed, the way he stumbled over the greeting was audible and certainly confused Argáz as well. "Frérin and his people have been forced to live in hiding in the North, Argáz, ever since escaping from Moria." he added in away of explanation.
The other dwarf's eyes darkened. "If they got the same troubles you got, I am more than half of my mind to go North and grab that fat King on his Mountain and feed him to the next dragon I find." Argáz grumbled, his voice a deep growl.
It was only a moment and the guard captain had it in check again, his eyes going back to Frérin. "I apologize for the outburst, M'Lord," he said. "it is great honor to see you return to our people."
Thirán
"I am glad to find welcome here," Thirán gave Argáz a tentative smile, "though it is something I hope to speak to your king over, I was... not the only one to escape Moria." He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He needed to remember Kíli's word on these people, they were not like Erebor's people, they did not see him as something wrong. A lifetime of beliefs however were not easy to push out of his mind.
Boromir
Boromir quietly watched Thirán for a moment, seeing him struggle to accept the welcome he received. "Perhaps we may be permitted to rest from our journey and we will be able to talk easier after," he suggested.
Kíli
"An excellent suggestion," Kíli inclined his head towards Boromir, grateful his friend was seeing the situation.
Argáz gave a curt nod. "I'll have two of my men escort you down," he said. "and I'll send word ahead, to the palace."
Kíli raised a hand. "No guards, Argáz, I promise to not get lost again and wander the halls of ancient memory for days before you find me." There was a hint of humor in his voice, recalling his problems navigating these halls. Argáz meant well, the guards were a sign of respect but it would be easier without them.
The guard captain accepted that with an easy smile. "If I do not hear from Lini that you are in her care and her people fussing over you within three hours, I *will* send someone to search the forgotten halls." He replied, gesturing his men to open the inner gate, which revealed a long flight of stairs leading down into the deeps.
Boromir
With some of the guardsmen taking care of their horses, they turned to the stairs as their guides indicated. The stairs were long, but it was hard to be daunted by them, as a son of Minas Tirith, a city that sometimes gained the joking title of "the City of Stairs" for the simple fact that most ways between levels had stairs somewhere.
"Lost in ancient halls?" he asked Kíli in a low voice.
Kíli
"The oldest parts of this city are so ancient they do not compare to any other dwarven kingdom, Moria included," Kíli replied softly. "even dwarven scholars wonder when the original halls were built here. The ancient halls are marked differently than we do today and I got horribly lost a few times during my first year here. The walls of those ancient halls are full of inscriptions, ancient dwarven writing - it fascinated me, and I would forget time trying to riddle them out. Argáz had to go find me more than once."
Back then he had also sought to be alone, to somehow not burden others with the grief, the pain, it had only made Argáz, Darghûn and a great number of other dwarves very worried and protective about him.
Boromir
"That sounds much as I would think I would react if by some chance I found myself on Númenor," Boromir said, a small quirk on his lips at the thought. "Finding the remnants of our past, trying to understand what they were truly like... though at least here the ancient halls remain untouched by great catastrophes, I would not expect the same of Númenor though."
Kíli
"The Earth and the Sea are great powers... and what they leave behind is never quite the same." Kíli replied thinking of the ruins of Cardemir. "though the secrets that may be found on the island of your ancestors would be intriguing." Even intriguing enough to risk another journey by ship and Kíli hated being out on the sea. One Umbar campaign had been enough, thank you very much.
They reached the end of the stairs and stood at the foot of the bridge spanning a chasm. Ahead lay a huge grotto, filled with buildings, and alight with lamps. The heart of the city had partially been built from the white stone of the land, interspersed with darker materials it gave the city a pattern of sorts. The palace rose at the heart of the city, a building guarded to each side by two huge stone warriors.
Boromir
Boromir looked up at the vista the central city presented, feeling his sister come to stand with a hand on his back, looking as well. He tried to track the pattern of dark and light stone, feeling he was not quite seeing something in it. The city however was impressive and defied all the dismissive attitudes that went around about dwarves and underground cities. It was too easy to think of a place like the Undercity, but compared to this, the Undercity was nothing but rude tunnels.
Elennárë
"I see Lossornë in those stones - there is a tree marked out in the white stone, the lamps like stars through the branches." Elennárë spoke as she looked at the buildings. "It must have taken a lot of planning to lay it all out, getting the dark and light in the right places."
Kíli
"Among Tiórvi's survivors was a younger son of the House of Steeldeep Hold," Kíli replied to Elennárë's question. "and like many of his line, he was an extraordinary builder and planner."
Anvari who stood beside Elennárë had been silent for all the time, feeling a bit timid and out of place down here. But he could see what she pointed out.
They crossed the bridge and into the city itself. Kíli led them through the maze of halls, stairs and streets, the city did not follow the typical dwarven logic, nor their strictly geometric layout, which usually shaped their homes.
Eventually they reached the plaza of the first fountain - which lay directly in front of the palace stairs. The hall itself was huge, hewn into dark stone and upheld by seven white pillars, who were shaped like trees holding the hall. At the heart of the place stood the first well - guarded by two warrior statues, standing back to back - one dwarf, one human.
Elennárë
Elennárë paused to look at the statue of the Man. "Do you know, he reminds me a bit of Boromir," she stated with a thoughtful frown on her face, "maybe it is merely the Númenorian look though, " she gave a shrug and reached out a hand to Anvari.
Kíli
Kíli looked up at the figure and had to agree - there was a distinct similarity between them, if one looked closely enough. "Maybe he and Boromir do share bloodlines," he guessed. "there is little enough that the chronicles report of Tiórvi's partner, so it might well be possible." Without truly noticing it the words made him gravitate closer to Boromir.
Boromir
"I do not know if it is even possible to find out, my family line becomes murky once one goes much further back than the Húrin whose name it bears. There are too many gaps in the records from the earlier kings, so if there is relation, it might be hard to track it down," Boromir shrugged as he looked at the statue himself. There was a passing similarity, but then that could be said of half the statues in the throne room in Minas Tirith as well.
Kíli's move closer prompted him to put a warm hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "But enough contemplation of statues, we should not tarry and head inside."
Kíli
Inside the palace they swiftly found themselves in the hands of Lini - the head maid - and her staff. Kíli knew all too well that trying to escape Lini's fussing was a useless endeavour and that the warm-hearted elderly dwarf lady had as good a heart as as strong a will. Lini promptly saw to it that they all had a good warm bath, the chance to change into clean clothes and some good meal prepared in between. While she did fuss over Kíli, Thirán got even more of her attention, which did not surprise Kíli the least. Lini was at heart a wonderful mother-hen.
Boromir
Boromir had to wonder if it was something universal to the staff of any wealthy household that the senior female would be a fussing, motherly figure who made it her business to badger the family she served for their own good. He knew a good half a dozen noble houses with such a presence, including his uncle's house at Dol Amroth and the Citadel in Minas Tirith.
The bath was a welcome thing, as the trek into the mountains was hardly the easiest thing, and add horses and walking close to waterfalls and a good warm wash was needed, and clean clothing the maids had laid out from his packs felt all the better.
As he stepped into the dinning chamber, Boromir spotted Thirán absently fiddling with a braid in his hair that was new.
Thirán
Thirán looked up as Boromir came over his way. Catching the questioning look, he waved the braid he was toying with. "I have not worn the Durin braid for almost a hundred and fifty years. It feel a little odd to have it in again," he said with a slightly worried smile.
Kíli
Kíli who had come in smiled at hearing the words. He could see that Frérin was still nervous, but he hoped that the welcome would put him at ease in time. Kíli too had been through a good bath, and contrary to the way he kept his hair when he was in Minas Tirith or Osgiliath had braided his hair as well. One braid was similar to Frérin's, the Durin Family braid, the other signifying rank - it had taken years and patience from Darghûn ere Kíli had accepted it.
Like he had felt the presence an older dwarf entered the room - his grey hair and beard were streaked with white, though still full and thick. Before Kíli could quite react he found himself at the receiving end of a bear-hug. "Kíli lad... you look like you came freshly back from war, which is exactly what you did, don't you deny it." The old dwarf's voice was warm and deep. He pulled back from the hug. "If you keep going like this, I will have some of Azgár's boys follow you down there before long." There was a friendly, short headbutt between them. Darghûn had become something of an Uncle or almost-grandfather to Kíli, and he loved the old, kind-hearted dwarf dearly.
Darghûn stepped back from him, acknowledging the rest of the room. His eyes went to Thirán as he turned. "Frérin, Son of Thrain, Son of Thrór... when Kíli wrote to me that you survived that battle in the North and came back from the deeps, I truly knew that Mahal had not forgotten our kind." he said, stepping up to Frérin. "Welcome to Kaz-Tarnûr, it is good to see you here."
Thirán
"It is good to be here, Your Majesty," Thirán replied. "I would say it was by Mahal's grace I and my fellows had the chance to get free when we did." He caught a movement from the corner of his eye as Elennárë and Anvari entered and waved his son over to join him. "This is my son, Anvari, fathered by Thórálfr, son of Afavldr."
Darghûn
Darghûn shook his head slightly. "No such titles, least of all from family." Their lines may have split three thousand years ago, when a wounded and exhausted dwarven king had chosen to never return to his high throne in Khazad-Dûm, yet it made them no less family. Darghûn could easily see that Frérin was much jumpier than Kíli had been when he had arrived here decades ago. He smiled when he saw the younger lad join them. Never having been blessed with children of his own, Darghûn felt all the more happy to know that the clan would not die with old warriors like him.
"Welcome to Kaz-Tarnûr, Anvari." he said, welcoming the younger dwarf as well. "I am Darghûn, son of Ragnar."
Thirán
While Anvari was taking everything better than his father, he did seem just a little nervous as well, if Thirán was not reading him wrong. For all Thirán tried to keep him from being affected too much with the stigma most of the Lost lived under, he still grew up knowing they had been an outcast group.
"There are matters I would like a chance to talk upon, though perhaps we may take the time to have our meal?"
Darghûn
Darghûn could see they both were tense - the stigma of the dead was one that had never died among most of the dwarven kingdoms, and it seemed to have a hold even over those who were most hurt by it. "A good meal first," Darghûn replied, who liked to talk when he was hungry? "though I should not disregard your comrades so entirely."
He turned to Boromir and Elennárë. "It has been many many centuries since one of your noble family came here," he said. "but no matter the time or hour, you will always be welcome here."
Boromir
"For that, I thank you. I will confess that I have not known of your kingdom for long, though what I have seen so far is a marvel I do not expect to easily find equal to," Boromir replied. "May I introduce Elennárë, my sister." Elennárë offered a polite curtsey in following to Boromir's introduction.
Darghûn
Darghûn bowed in turn to greet the Lady properly. After the greetings were done with, they went to the adjacent room where the table was set with a big meal. With the kitchens having had some advance warning, the meal they had prepared had been with good dwarven hunger in mind. Darghûn spoke little during the meal, more inclined to watch the interactions of the group. He could not fail to notice that Kíli was more open around Boromir of Gondor, more himself in a sense that was hard to misread for a dwarrow.
Anvari certainly was sweet on the Lady present, though he managed to hide a lot of it behind good manners and simply being very attentive to her every wishes.
Much of Darghûn's attention was taken by Thirán - Frérin he corrected himself. This was Frérin and thus he would remain, even if Dáin grew an iron head to match the foot. Only after they had finished the main courses and were only sitting with a good mug of ale, and some small after-dinner snacks that the kitchens had sent up, Darghûn turned to matters at hand. Or to what he guessed matters would be. "Kíli tells me that you led quite the number of our people out of the Deeps, Frérin," he began, going to what he had read between the lines of the three letters he had received during the last months.
Thirán
Thirán knew that Kíli had intended to send forewarning of his companions, though the full extent he might have written about Thirán and the Lost was not something Thirán knew the details of. Still, it was the major matter he had come to speak of, so he was not going to by shy about it.
"Of those who made it out of Moria, we had a total of forty-six men and two women, including myself. Not all of those were taken at Azanulbizar, with a good few captured in years since. We sought out a place where we could feel the Deep Stone after one of our men, Sokki, was found pregnant." He took a drink, absently studying the ale in the mug for a moment. "As of last autumn, before Anvari and I came south in search of Kíli, there were seventeen children of varying ages, and another two pregnancies in progress, the older I expect to find born when I return. Of the original forty-eight, we have lost four to orc raids, and two of the older children as well."
Darghûn
Darghûn sighed, he could read between those lines and the thought of what his people had to go through made him angry. He had heard enough of life up North from Kíli in the past, but he could see how much harder and darker the way had been for Frérin and his people. "Frérin, lad," Darghûn said after a moment. "there is no way to say this that will not sound either arrogant or pompous, though I will try. So here it is - I would be more than happy to have your people here, inside the Kaz-Tarnûr. Some of our people might need a word or two, to not go all over-protective on you, but no one - No One - will say one word about all that old nonsense that Dáin of the Fat Posterior is still upholding. There is a reason my ancestor wrote it into law that this "custom" and all it entails was forbidden from being practiced, taught or used in the laws of an individual household. And today I know Tiórvi must have foreseen something, when he had this law set in stone."
Thirán
"Kíli has told me the law of Zarg-tagir was one long set aside here, and though do not know how he ruled after our father and grandfather were lost, I do know it was one law Thorin, even in his youth, thought was a detriment to all dwarves." Thirán turned a bit in his seat, facing Darghûn more directly. "Truth be told, I came here hoping you would be willing to accept my people. Rhudaur is growing more dangerous as orc numbers grow again. If anything, I fear them more than I do Dáin, as the worst Dáin would do is maybe a quick slaughter, if he had the guts to commit a kinslaying. Orcs would take us prisoner again and I would not want to see the damage that would do. Too many of the older members of our number are badly damaged by what they went through and our children..." he trailed off, closing his eyes with a shudder, fighting off the revulsion the mere thought gave him.
Darghûn
Darghûn reached over to place a hand on Frérin's shoulder. He did not want to imagine what nightmares he had lived through. Darghûn was not blind to the darkening of the world, and he knew the time might come when they would be fighting in the open again, rather sooner than later. "I would never leave one of our people to them, not to them, not to their savage kindred," he said after a moment. "Maybe I hate Dáin so much, because he took the throne but does not do, what he should be doing."
He bit back any more anger, Frérin did not need to hear all that. "I will send warriors with you, to help your people on the journey south, to make sure they all get here safely."
Thirán
"Having warriors with us would be assuring, not in the least they could confirm that we are welcome to come settle here with your people, as I am sure there would be some who would initially doubt," Thirán smiled, feeling far easier now. Though he did not doubt Kíli's word, there had remained a small part of him that found it hard to believe they would be accepted.
Darghûn
"I will have Argáz and Aesa go with you. Argáz will lead the warriors and have your back, no matter what happens and Aesa will deal with any "proper" dwarrow that may cause trouble. She comes from one of the old houses and she has the bite to give even a crowned King a piece of her mind that he won't forget easily." Darghûn decided, he knew whom of the warriors he would send along, some of them really needed something to do, and would take to the task wholeheartedly.
Thirán
Thirán snorted into his mug in a laugh. "Well while I do hope we will not get into any such confrontation, I will say that is a sight I would not mind seeing," he said, grinning. "Otherwise I hope Aesa will leave speaking to the Dúnedain to me, I seem to have managed to stay on their good side, which Kíli has told me is not an easy matter."
Darghûn
"Aesa will follow your direction, as will Argáz," Darghûn said, he knew he would not even need to remind them - having Frérin Swiftblade, son of Thrain here, would even have Aesa a bit tongue-tied, and that was saying something. "and from what Kíli told me about the Dúnedain, it no small feat indeed that you managed to stay good with them." Darghûn grinned. "I do like our Menfolk brethren down here, but even I asked Kíli to go down to the White City and sort out the mess the new governor of the province was making."
Thirán
"I do think I had some help with Belakan, their leader at the time we were first searching for a place, we were originally pointed the towards the caves by a couple of Elves from Rivendell. The Dúnedain have a very close relationship with Lord Elrond, especially their leaders," Thirán admitted. "I may have a lingering dislike for those stuck-up tree-dwellers in Lothlórien after how they acted towards our people trying to reclaim Moria, but Rivendell's people have been far more willing to accept a group of refugees living near their lands."
Darghûn
"Our people have not seen an elf in many centuries," Darghûn replied, he had heard some about the elves from Kíli, and Kíli had also said that the people of Rivendell were good people, even as their cooking left something to be desired. "and as they behaved with some decency, maybe you should let them know you are leaving?" Darghûn considered for a moment. "I do not know how heavily they relied on you for trading ironworks."
Thirán
"I do intend to let them know," Thirán nodded to Darghûn's words. "In part since I wish to let Aragorn have the option of seeing if any of his people would like to move in after we depart. It is well-hidden and would be a place that could be defended well, and the mine is nowhere near running dry, so they would be able to take advantage of it. I could probably meet with Elrond at the same time as Aragorn, since he is in and out of Rivendell quite a bit."
Darghûn
Darghûn could see the wisdom in that, and who knew what might come of it in the long run. His eyes went to Kíli. "Do you think others will be there should Dwalin react to your letter?"
Kíli looked up and there was a shier expression in his mien. "I do not know. Sometimes I think even hoping for Dwalin would be too much. If I am lucky some friends are with him... if not, I'll face a duel for my presumptions."
"If it comes to that you'll gut your challenger and not feel bad about it," Darghûn grumbled softly. "I shall not mind any trouble that comes of that, when it comes my way."
Boromir
"For that matter I would gut them for trying, as I would not look kindly on them attacking a highly valued citizen of Gondor, as well as the person who is, effectively, your ambassador to my people," Boromir spoke up. "If all I have studied about the relationship between our peoples has told me much, it is the trade with the White Mountains is of far greater value than any trade Gondor may have with Erebor."
Darghûn
Darghûn studied the tall man, sitting beside Kíli on the other of the table. In a way he was relieved that Boromir would have Kíli's back, for the whole idea worried him and some of these worries were none that he could voice in full company. "I am glad you are with him in this, Boromir of Gondor," he said after a moment's thought. "what I fear more than any open challenge is trickery again. Dáin employed it once and he might..."
"Dáin acted on what happened, Darghûn," Kíli interjected.
Darghûn snorted. "His brother-in-law blabs about something, that probably all your companions were determined to keep quiet... and you think it happened by accident?" he asked dryly. "No, Kíli, Glóin had his reasons for turning on you, and I am sure his brother-in-law was well apprised of anything that would happen before it happened."
Elennárë
"Glóin, son of Gróin, married to Grís..." Elennárë murmured, more to herself than to everyone else. "I wonder how much control over Dáin Grísela has? If she is anything like Grís, she has him by his beard and is the real power behind that throne." It was a line of thought that came directly from Elenaria's memories, though when Elennárë looked up to catch eyes on her, she blushed, embarrassed that she once again got caught thinking aloud.
Kíli
"From what I know Grís and Grísela are eggs of the same kind," Kíli jumped in swiftly, when he saw everyone stare at Elennárë. He knew that she probably was drawing on the experience they had shared during the forging, and on things she had seen there. "I do remember Thorin saying that Dáin was not the Lord of the his own house..."
Anvari, who too had noticed the reaction to Elennárë's surprising knowledge of the dwarven clans took up Kíli's cue. "Whether Dáin himself or his wife are the ones to guard against, we at least know that they might try to use less than honorable means." he said, pretending that there was nothing unusual about Elennárë knowing all this. With who and what she was, who know how much she could foresee?
Thirán
Thirán looked back and forth between Kíli, Boromir and Anvari, picking up that there was something in Elennárë's knowledge that might be of serious curiosity. Perhaps it was one of those secrets he had picked up surrounded her, something beyond how she was related to Boromir. He knew there had to be something more, and had recently started to sense Anvari knew something about it.
"No matter who may be behind any action, the best course is to go into this meeting with Dwalin with a wary eye on whoever comes with him," Thirán said, drawing the discussion back to the central matter. "I am inclined to trust Dwalin himself, but who knows whether those he has been friends with have divided loyalties? Especially after living under Dáin's rule for the last seventy years."
Kíli
"I seriously wish that Dwalin remained at Erebor," Kíli said softly. "I pray he did. If he left... I'd have no hope at all for us." He could feel Darghûn's look, as well as the others eying him strangely, with the exception of Elennárë, who of course might know some things from Elenaria. Kíli straightened his shoulders a bit, gaze going to Boromir.
"After we settled in the west, in the Ered Luin, Dwalin began to work as a mercenary, here and there, wherever people would pay decently enough for his sword. After having a fallout with one of his employers, he did join the war of succession in the East, where he earned the name of Dwalin Bloodbane."
Boromir
The name sounded familiar and had Boromir frowning in thought. "If he knows Eastern strategies, he would be a great defender if and when a major offensive comes... and I do not doubt that at some point it will come. The Eastern Empire is too hungry to conquer, and the Dark Lord to hungry to destroy the West."
Thirán
"And when it comes, Erebor will be at the forefront in the north, holding off the Empire's forces that come straight out of Rhûn," Thirán added grimly. "I heard things spoken by the Easterlings in Moria to just that effect. They expect to see Sauron rise again some time, and it did not sound like they were talking about centuries away."
Kíli
Kíli's looked at Thirán, wondering how he felt, how he could deal with remembering, and if he would accept that if Kíli could win Dwalin to join them, Erebor would have to do on it's own for all he cared. "You are both right," he said. "things have become worse in the last decades. I... I sometimes wonder if whatever happened that summer in Dol Guldur had anything to do with what we face now. Either way, I still hope that Dwalin will be willing to join with us, though it is a long shot, admittedly." Kíli was not sure how much, or how little, it would bring at the end, but he would try, no matter what.
Darghûn looked at them and the old king nodded grimly. "While I do not know what the East is planning or plotting, I expect it will not be that long until our people will have to join with yours to fight, Boromir." He had read Kíli's letters carefully, each of them, and listened to what his own spies said. Mordor was gearing for war and Darghûn too had made his plans.
Boromir
"For that I am more than thankful," Boromir said, offering Darghûn a warm smile. "I also hope to speak with a few of those in the north who might consider being allies, but they are less certain." He had come to believe that he was going to have to speak to Thorongil about his potential role in Gondor and he had no idea what might come about with Elennárë's kin, and did not want to get his hopes up there.
Darghûn
"All we can do is try," Darghûn could only guess what hopes or allies Boromir would try to find North, and he did not pry. "But enough of the dark talk for one evening. You all will be tired and want some rest, especially with the journey you are planning."